


We Have Rules!

by DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David Rose is a Nice Person, Dramatic David Rose, M/M, Patrick Brewer is a Troll, Post-Canon, Rose Apothecary (Schitt's Creek), Smitten Patrick Brewer, co-managers, patrick gives david his pickles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: “Lunch?” Patrick asks, untying the bag.David turns around, dropping the feather duster by his side and sagging. It’s for effect, Patrick is sure. “Oh thank god! I have had a day.”Patrick felt his lips twitch affectionately and tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. “David, I left you alone for an hour and a half. That’s not a day.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 17
Kudos: 161





	We Have Rules!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schittyfic (sixtysevenlmpala)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/gifts).



> For Schittyfic who asked for David dealing with a difficult customer for the first time. 
> 
> I deviated from the prompt slightly, because this is not the first time, but I had way too much fun with it. I'll write the first time another time.
> 
> Major thanks to TINN for the beta!

When Patrick steps inside Rose Apothecary to find David angrily dusting the shelves he knows something must have happened while he was out. Dusting is a generous word for the way David is flitting between shelves, gently whacking the shelves themselves and sending dust into the air. 

Patrick had carefully calculated how long it would take to swing by town hall and the café for lunch on his way back from the bank. It had seemed like just the right amount of time to not have anything fluster David while he was gone. Patrick had miscalculated. 

He can’t put his finger on if it’s the fact that Ronnie made him refill out his forms twice or that Twyla told him a very long and involved story about her mom’s snowmobile accident while he waited to pick up their food. It could have been the string of red lights all the way down the center of Elmdale. 

“Lunch?” Patrick asks, untying the bag. 

David turns around, dropping the feather duster by his side and sagging. It’s for effect, Patrick is sure. “Oh thank god! I have had a day.”

Patrick felt his lips twitch affectionately and tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. “David, I left you alone for an hour and a half. That’s not a day.”

David spun the feather duster in a wide circle and his face went through a series of emotions, including an eye roll as he made his way back to the main counter. “Well, it certainly felt longer. I had the _rudest_ customer while you were gone. We are going to need to keep a very close eye on her. Possibly consider a lifetime ban.”

“Oh?” Patrick asks, unpacking the to-go boxes, placing them in their usual spots on the counter. 

“Yes,” David snaps, stowing the feather duster.

David opens his box and instantly grabs fries and tosses them in his mouth. He scowls while chewing. “Ugh, the fries are already cold! The cafe is a stone’s throw from here! How does she do that?” David asks, rhetorically while continuing to eat the cold fries. 

“Anyway, yes. She tried to return used product and wanted a refund. We have rules! _Rules!!_ You even typed them up!”

David gestures at the small sign attached to the cash register in their plastic holster while taking another angry bite.

“I did.” 

David swallows heavily. “And _then_ she had the audacity to complain about the lack of variety in our lubes! We have _the strictest_ ingredient standards and _exceptionally careful_ { health considerations when procuring any of our products. If you want Gel Time lube you can get that at Brebners! Or you could just get residual oil from Bob’s Garage!”

“Anything else?” Patrick asks, hiding his smile behind his sandwich.

“She asked if any of our leatherwork artists did commissions for larger products and I offered to reach out and she was mad that we don’t list the products all under the name of the artists and she wants to contact them herself, and like fine, do that but this is an _immersive, branded experience.”_

“Mmm, so did you say all of that?”

“Of course not! She’s a paying customer. I offered her a gift certificate for whatever leather commission she goes with. I also took notes on her concerns and threw them out when she left! We should still consider banning her from the store.”

“Did you get a name?” Patrick asks, already knowing the answer.

David’s mouth falls open before snapping shut, his mouth folding into a scowl. “No.”

Patrick moves closer, wrapping his arms around David’s waist. David’s hands settle on Patrick’s shoulders automatically. As wonderful as that is, Patrick has to needle his husband. “Are you going to make a sketch and put it in the back room? Watch out for this woman? You should write up a whole description. Wants incorrect lubes and insider information.”

David rolls his eyes, throwing his head back and letting out a sigh that is leaning pretty heavily towards a huff. He brings his chin back down and his eyes flutter with a resigned annoyance. Patrick loves this man. 

“Look,” David says, clicking his tongue. “I was very kind and appeased her ravings and sent her on her way. Names were beyond me.”

“You did a wonderful job, David,” Patrick tells him, meaning every word.

David’s brows drop and a frown forms in the storm of David’s emotions. “You say that like you think I wouldn’t know what to do with myself and an angry customer.”

“Well—” Patrick starts.

David pushes back out of Patrick’s arms, wagging a finger. The frown deepens and David bares his teeth slightly before offering his rebuttal. “No! That was _one time_ and the customer was _wildly incorrect_ and I regret _nothing.”_

Patrick glides slowly back into David’s space, and David melts from righteous indignity to mildly annoyed, eyelids fluttering. Patrick smiles at David warmly, wrapping his arms around David’s waist. David’s hands pop right back on his shoulders. “Well, I’m just glad you handled Gwen so well. She can be tricky.”

Patrick leans in, pressing a kiss to David’s neck. 

“Mmm,” David hums, his hands stroking over Patrick’s shoulders. About ten seconds pass before David freezes, stock still. “Wait, that was Gwen?!”

“Yup.”

David pinches at his shoulders, pulling back and glaring at Patrick. His face is incredulous. “How do you _know?!_ You weren’t even _here.”_

Patrick shrugs, heading back around the counter to his own lunch. He lifts the top of his sandwich and picks the pickles off, putting them into David’s to-go box. “Gwen comes in with a complaint once a month. I usually get away without giving her a whole coupon. But you did great.”

David follows Patrick’s movements, swiveling in place. _“That_ was the mysterious _Gwen?”_

“I mean, she’s not mysterious. She’s everywhere. Also she’s shacking up with Pastor Jim, but yeah, _mysterious,”_ Patrick offers, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. Sandwich cleared of pickles, Patrick puts the bread back on.

David’s whole body goes through a series of shudders, his head shaking vehemently before he stills. “Wait? What?!”

Patrick just grins. “Your lunch is only going to get colder.”

“Umm, you know what. No. I don’t want to know.” David waves his hands at Patrick, dismissing Gwen from his mind and their store. He grabs cold fries and puts them in his mouth, scowling while he chews.


End file.
